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Chief Windrunner tosses to the left shunning his warmth. Shivering, he pulls his new blanket up to his chin wrapping the bottom corners under his cold chapped heels to prevent the wandering artic chill from grazing on his toes. It was an investment in the survival of his tribe. The pale man has shown probity with gifts of trade that will extend his tribes legacy over the next winter months. He drifts back to a slumber entrenched in dreams of prosperity. Breathing heavily, a relaxing inhale of security…and disease.
Down the Mississippi river and traversing 200 years, Thelma is having sweet dreams herself. Her day was filled with joy, laughter, and love. She was consumed by the Holy Spirit this morning. It happened unexpectedly, as is the nature of the mysterious spirit of God. She sat three rows from the faltering balcony railing and nearly center the preacher’s podium. This prime real estate was reserved for the most blessed that rose extra early to complete the morning tasks, prepare the master’s children, and get their family ready before dawn broke. Thelma was unaccustomed to sitting so closely, but last week a third of her Sunday morning chores was relieved when her children were sold off to a wealthy tobacco plantation owner passing through on his way back to his estate in Virginia. He took an immediate liking to young Ophelia who was showing the promise of great childbearing hips even at the age of ten. Her brother, Evan, two years Ophelia’s senior, was already sturdy in girth and determined in the mind having felt the weight of being a man in a household devoid of a testosterone signature. Yes, this Sunday was special, a welcome reprieve from the emotionally wrought week of past. Pastor Anderson must have received anointing from God to lead Thelma because he spoke of God’s children being patient. Being poor in life, but rich in faith. At one point, he peered over the thin rim of his spectacles, his pink, thin lips curled under in that familiar sneer-like indignation of a smile that punctuated the remarks God told him to drive deep into the hearts of the congregation. Holding her gaze he said, “Love thy neighbor. Love thy enemy.” That’s when it happened. A slow moving burn direct from the solar plexus, coiled up her torso pausing briefly atop her myocardium before oscillating through her larynx. She was nearly entranced, unaware of Bo tapping his worn but freshly buffed boot to the rhythm masked by his thoughts, and Sissy’s restless children wriggling in their stiff corduroy slacks too small to be comfortable during the duration of a proper church sermon. Her nervous system vibrated with pure excitement, the kind that could not be contained in mere flesh. Nearly out of it, God saw fit to remind her of the rules of engagement for niggers during service and she snapped back just in time to stifle a shriek. She can have their God, but not their freedoms. After all, she’s only 3/5ths human. That’s the part that God owns. The rest belongs to her master.
Natives of the Americas received warm blankets and the Africans received God. Blankets doused in disease as biological warfare. The land, and an easy acquisition, was the most important goal for these newcomers. The small pox decimated the Native population with such force that even today most people think that the Natives are extinct. Where they needed only land from Native Americans, they needed something much more nefarious from Africans. Subjugation. God and all his doctrines served as the perfect tool for suppressing any resistance to white rule. How can one love their enemy and fight them? It is best to be a slave on earth and a king in heaven. For the indoctrinated slave, it was better to spend a few decades in hard labor than an eternity in hell. God has single handedly subdued Africa and all her original occupants to the extreme point of mental incapacitation that Africans and its diaspora are the biggest stake holders in God.
The one indicator that was overlooked by both of these populations was intent. When one’s mentality is that of peace, they cannot imagine war. Vice versa. While these original nations would not consider the possibility of another’s intent to do a harm of legacy, the white population could not fathom another’s affinity for only peace. A war of necessity was the mindset of the original nations, and a war of greed was the mindset of the white. As result, these original nations got gifts of disease, internal war, self-hatred, and God. Now they are ingratiated with their old masters in the hopes of receiving more gifts of wolves in sheep’s clothing. It’s time to be suspicious about why they viewed us as nothing more than working mules, but believed our eternal souls need to be saved. Beware of the white man’s gifts.
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